


some kind of serious

by shatteredhourglass



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (a running theme with me perhaps), Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton's Dildo Collection, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Bucky Barnes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Clint Barton, Trans Clint Barton, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23822890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredhourglass/pseuds/shatteredhourglass
Summary: Clint's totally had sex in a parka before. Bucky's Minecraft sheep are being recoloured by a certain Steve Rogers. Kate needs her brain wiped.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 39
Kudos: 197





	some kind of serious

**Author's Note:**

> I know other people give a heads-up on this kind of thing so; this Clint is post top surgery and he's been on HRT for years. I felt weird about using either descriptions for his junk so for the most part it's skirted around. Happy Friday, or whatever day it is that you're reading this.

“Ew,” Kate says when she walks into the room. “Do you have to do that in front of people?”

“ _You’re_ ew,” Clint retorts, once he’s detached himself from Bucky’s mouth. It’s good that _he’s_ making an effort to acknowledge her because Bucky’s having trouble doing anything that requires conscious thought right now.

That’s mostly to do with the fact that Clint’s just come home from a week-long solo mission in the wilderness, which means he gets touchy. Clint’s got a need for touch in a way that Bucky’s not entirely used to, and if he’s left alone for a while it comes back with a vengeance.

 _Vengeance_ in this case meant that Clint had thrown the computer straight out of Bucky’s lap and replaced it with himself. (The computer’s fine. He thinks.) Bucky had about five seconds to register that Steve’s Minecraft character had started recolouring his sheep before Clint was kissing him.

Clint’s very good at kissing.

Bucky’s brain has taken a holiday.

“-can’t just have sex on the couch, other people live here too,” Kate’s complaining when he remembers to listen to what she’s saying.

“We’re not having sex,” Clint reasons. “You see any clothes removed? I’m still wearing a parka.”

Kate raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You’re telling me you _haven’t_ had sex in a parka before?”

“...no, I’m not,” Clint says, deflating a little.

Bucky rubs his thumb against Clint’s knee comfortingly, not that he needs it. It earns him a smile, either way, and that’s enough for him until Clint cups his cheek and leans in to fit their mouths together again. He’s at Clint’s mercy here, pinned down against the couch by muscled biceps and lean thighs, and with anyone else he’d panic but Clint emits an aura of safety like no one he’s ever met before.

Bucky’s hand curls against Clint’s thigh carefully. It’s as far as he touches, even with Clint’s long fingers on his throat and pressing against his chest.

“Ugh,” he hears Kate say, but he’s stopped worrying about what she thinks. Luckily he hears footsteps heading out of the lounge a second later and down the hallway, so there’s nothing for her to see either way.

“Think she’s gonna tell people we’re fucking on the couch,” Bucky says.

“Good,” Clint murmurs. “Wanted you to myself for a while anyway."

It’s funny because they haven’t actually had sex at all.

It’s been four months. Longer, if they’re counting the amount of times Clint’s fallen asleep in Bucky’s lap and drunkenly kissed him before they actually had a conversation about this being some kind of serious. Bucky’s never been so consistently turned on in his _life_ and it’s an exquisite kind of torture, being with Clint.

Bucky spends every night almost buzzing out of his skin with arousal and he's got a routine set now - the routine being that when Clint sleeps in his own bed, Bucky jerks off in the shower first with his mouth still tingling, and then he fingers himself in the bed while imagining Clint's eyes on him. 

He can’t seem to _stop_.

Clint hasn’t taken it any further than making out and a little groping; there was one notable time where he’d left a mouth-shaped bruise against Bucky’s throat. (It had only lasted an hour but Bucky had cherished it for the whole time.)

Either way he’s dying and Clint is unbearably, sizzlingly hot.

If this is how he goes, he’s okay with that.

"Let me fuck you," Clint murmurs against his lips.

Oh. Nevermind.

He's grinding on Bucky's thigh - not enough for it to be immediately obvious, just little circles of his hips that sets Bucky's skin on fire. It takes Bucky a minute to process the words and actually _comprehend_ them, because Clint's teeth graze his ear and his fingers are slipping down Bucky's stomach to touch him over his jeans. 

"Oh god," is all he can come up with once he gets there, though. Those people on the news who say he's a danger to society haven't met Clint Barton because metal arm or not, Clint is _killing_ him. 

He's always careful about touching Clint - there's been no horrible mistakes on his part yet, but he's always worried he'll do it wrong somehow. That he’ll fuck up irreparably. He hopes Clint would _tell_ him if he fucked up, but there’s always a chance it’ll just ruin the relationship instead.

Clint wanting to fuck him, though? Dream come true.

Maybe the gods have smiled upon him at last.

"That a yes?"

"Yes,” Bucky says instantly, a little desperately. “Yes, yeah, whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want,” Clint repeats. There’s something dark in his voice that _almost_ makes Bucky regret saying it. Almost.

Clint kisses him again, tongue swiping unhurriedly into Bucky’s mouth. He’s still got his fingers curled over Bucky’s dick and he squeezes gently through the denim before pushing Bucky’s shirt up to expose his stomach to the cold air. Bucky’s speechless, mostly because his vocal chords are occupied by the moan that slips out when Clint’s fingers brush his nipples.

He nearly cries out when Clint pulls back.

“Not here,” Clint says, even though he’s pink in the cheeks. “Bed?”

“Whose bed?”

“Mine,” Clint affirms after a second of thought, as he’s extricating himself from Bucky’s lap and getting to his feet. “I’ve got all the fun stuff.”

Bucky’s not sure whether to be offended or not that Clint thinks he doesn’t own lube, but he can’t find it in him to complain when there’s calloused fingers hitting exactly the right spots to make his nerves catch fire.

“Shit,” he breathes, tips his head back.

“Aw, Buck,” Clint says, teeth grazing against the bare skin of his hip. “Enjoying yourself?”

“God,” Bucky says. “I can’t- _Clint_.”

“Yeah,” Clint answers distractedly. “That’s good. Fuck, you’re so tight, I can’t wait to get my dick in you.”

Bucky had completely forgotten that was the plan and it just floods his veins with more heat. It’s hard to think about anything right now. He doesn’t even know how his clothes got removed, although he vaguely remembers complaints from Clint about how tight his jeans are. (They look good, what does it matter if they cut off his circulation?)

Clint's fingers slip out of him. 

"Don't _stop_ ," Bucky protests. 

Clint bites him. Just a little, but it’s on the inside of his thigh where it’s _sensitive_ and the sting makes him arch off the bed. He can feel Clint’s smile pressed against his skin when he comes back down and it makes him feel warm, knowing Clint’s enjoying himself. Even if this _does_ kill him, it’s worth it.

“Patient,” Clint says, and then he’s gone.

“I _am_ patient, Barton. Even if you left right now and I had to jerk off, it’d be fine,” Bucky comments. “This has given me enough fantasies for a lifetime.”

Clint laughs at that, so Bucky feels like he’s done a good job. There’s a faint rattling noise and Bucky squirms at the excess lube slipping down his ass. He can’t quite stop himself from reaching down to fit his hand around his dick, although he doesn’t go as far as actually jerking off. He’s just… touching.

He wants _Clint_ to be touching.

"Any dick preferences?"

Bucky lifts his head to see Clint rummaging in a drawer. "What?"

"Dick," Clint repeats. "Schlong. Best leg of three. Do you have a preference on what I fuck you with?"

Bucky keeps staring at him until Clint pulls out something sleek and black, waggles it at him. It bobs gently with the movement and Bucky finally clicks as to what he means. Fuck, but it's kind of hot. Not the dildo itself - Clint’s a _dork_ and the smirk on his face is a reminder that he’s got a juvenile sense of humour - but the casual, offhand way Clint talks about fucking him. 

"Whatever you want," he says. ”Anything. Something. C’mon.”

Clint lips curl into a delighted grin. It's mischievous and Bucky's immediately a little concerned. "I have Avengers themed ones."

He sticks the black dildo on the dresser - suction cup, the future’s an inventive place - and pulls out something coloured in red blue and white. It’s nightmarishly huge, thicker than Clint’s wrist, and Clint’s not exactly a _small_ guy. There’s a star printed on the tip.

"Not the Steve dildo," Bucky says instantly. 

"Knew you had an opinion," Clint says, puts it back in the drawer. How does one drawer fit all these toys?

The next one he pulls out is neon green and the head is shaped like a veiny fist.

Bucky hates it. "No."

"What happened to _whatever I want_?"

"Whatever you want that isn't the public’s impression of my best friend's dick or the Hulk's entire goddamn hand," Bucky says. "Fine?"

"You're ruining my fun," Clint tells him, and then he pulls out another dildo with grey and purple stripes. This one's long and only slightly on the intimidating side, and Bucky immediately starts imagining it pushing into his mouth, fucking into his throat. 

It must show on his face or something because Clint's previously amused expression shifts into raw heat. Shit, but it's hot. It’s the kind of look that makes Bucky think he’s going to get eaten alive.

“Yeah,” Clint says roughly. “Yeah, okay.”

Bucky’s left watching as Clint kicks off his boxers - his mouth goes dry immediately, because _fuck_ \- and then Clint’s wriggling intricate leather straps up his legs. There’s a lot more _fiddling_ involved than he would’ve guessed, but it’s still _hot_.

 _Clint’s_ hot, and despite the deafening feel of his own arousal Bucky would be happy to just look at him for the rest of forever.

Clint notices him staring after he’s finished messing around with the harness, lips curling into a smirk. “See something you like?”

“You,” Bucky says simply.

“Aw, Buck,” Clint says, the smirk dissolving into something softer, more pleased. “You’re giving me feelings. Elbows and knees, buddy.”

He rolls into the position Clint’s indicated, although he’s a little puzzled about the use of that word. “You callin’ everyone that you fuck your buddy?”

“Yep,” Clint answers, and Bucky can feel the heat of his skin between his legs. “Considering I’m only fucking _you,_ buddy.”

“I’d fucking hope so,” Bucky retorts and then Clint’s tugging him back with one hand, firmly guiding him into the position he wants.

All the snark is forgotten instantly. Clint pushes right in with one smooth motion until Bucky's so full he's gasping with it. 

" _Oh_. Oh fuck, please," he breathes. "More."

"Sure you can take more?"

"I can take whatever you give me," Bucky manages to say, but he changes his mind the minute Clint's dick shifts inside him. It’s too much. It’s not _enough_ , and Bucky shifts back to try and get more, his ass coming into contact with skin-warmed leather.

“Been looking forward to this,” Clint says and Bucky exhales sharply, because Clint’s been _thinking_ about this, possibly even planning for it.

“ _Gah_ ,” is what he comes up with. He hears Clint’s little huff of amusement and then the dildo’s dragging against every sensitive spot it can reach, pulling back until he can feel the head tugging at his rim. Clint’s next thrust is so hard he nearly slips and falls onto his stomach, his locked elbows the only thing that save him.

It’s so good.

"Look real nice taking my dick," Clint murmurs, leaning forward with his lips brushing Bucky's shoulder blade. "Real pretty, Buck."

Bucky tries to come up with a reply. The words slip away the second he thinks them, though, and then he's left pressing his face into the sheets to try and muffle the sounds he makes as Clint fucks him. 

Clint doesn't seem interested in saving his dignity because he doesn't ease up with his thrusts, and then his fingers skate over Bucky's ribs and start playing with his nipples. He's pretty sure he hadn't been this sensitive before now. The experts were wrong; Clint _does_ have a superpower and it's lighting up every nerve in Bucky's body and setting him on fire. 

Bucky’s completely blissed out on it. He’s been imagining this for _years_ , the first time Steve had said _yeah so this one is Hawkeye, he’s trouble_ and Clint had turned to grin at him, hitting three training dummies directly in the forehead without breaking eye contact.

He was devastatingly hot then and he’s hot _now_ , quiet grunts and the sound of his dick pushing into Bucky’s body with ease, his fingers curled around Bucky’s hip hard enough to bruise. Bucky would treasure the bruises if they’d show, but he knows they won’t. The only evidence of it he’ll get is from Clint himself.

Bucky’s been wanting the sex but he _craves_ the skin contact, the knowledge that Clint’s looking after him in this moment, taking the reins with steady hands. It doesn’t stop the heat flooding in his veins ramping up higher with every thrust, his self-control fizzling to nothing when Clint drops a kiss against his spine.

“I’m not gonna-” he tries to say. “I’m-”

“Yeah,” Clint says, one hand slipping down to stroke at Bucky’s dick. “Come for me, let me see it.”

How’s he supposed to say _no_ to something like that?

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Bucky mumbles. His whole body feels hot and syrupy, aftershocks pulsing through him.

He might’ve melted at some point, because Clint supports him for a minute and then lets go and he sprawls on the mattress. Bucky can't help the overwhelmed whimper when the dildo slips out of him, but he works up the effort to roll over.

Then he wants to cover his face with the pillow. Ugh. Why’s Clint got to look so _good_?

Clint grins at him, a little lopsided and smug, and Bucky reaches for his hips, slips his hands up the muscled lines of Clint's sides. 

There’s scars mapped out all over his skin, some bigger than others. Bucky’s thumbs brush over the ones further up Clint’s chest, the ones that are surgical rather than from a fight gone wrong, and he’s not sure if it’s okay until he realizes Clint’s squirming in a way so he _does_ touch them.

Clint’s also just squirming though, and Bucky wants to help him out with that.

"Can I-" he can't quite say it out loud, some old part of him saying that it's impolite even though they literally fucked a few seconds ago. He tugs at the harness without elaborating and Clint's eyes light up with interest and a little glee. 

“Be my guest,” Clint says, shifting so he can undo it. “Mouth or hands?”

“Mouth,” Bucky answers immediately. “Please.”

He doesn’t miss the way Clint shivers just a little, like just imagining it is doing something for him. Bucky tucks that information away for later, when he can use it to his advantage.

“ _Please_. The Winter Soldier is remarkably polite during sex,” Clint says. “What’re your fans gonna think, huh?”

“Don’t care what _they_ think,” Bucky mutters.

That earns him a smile as Clint shifts up the bed.

"Okay?"

"More than," Bucky says, gets his fingers curled around the curve of Clint's ass. God, but it's a nice ass. 

He’d never really thought about Clint straddling his face before now but it’s sending him into all kinds of turned on. Clint’s not _quite_ as bulky as he is and yet there’s still a lot of muscle in his legs to admire from this close up. It’s great.

"Cool," Clint says. "You can- oh shit, _yeah_."

Bucky hasn’t done this in a long time - when people usually say that they mean a few years, Bucky’s talking _decades_ \- but he falls into it pretty easily, parts his lips when he tugs Clint down to taste. He’s still boneless and languid in a post-orgasm daze, and it makes the slow strokes of his tongue even better, especially when he feels Clint shudder and swear above him.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Clint says, trails off. Whatever he was going to say, it’s gone now.

It’s clear he’d been more interested in driving Bucky out of his head earlier but now the attention’s on Clint he’s falling apart under Bucky’s hands, the tiny grinding motions pushing Bucky’s mouth harder against him.

He’s already close from earlier, so Bucky doesn’t get as much time as he’d like to properly acquaint himself with every inch of Clint’s body. Still, he’s immensely gratified when Clint’s thighs squeeze his face briefly and then Clint’s coming against his tongue with a shaky noise.

Bucky keeps touching him as long as he can, presses a kiss to a jagged scar on the inside of Clint’s thigh and feels him shudder.

“Fuck,” Clint says.

“Mmhm,” Bucky answers, a little distracted. There’s a scar shaped like a smiley face as well, which is… slightly concerning, but he presses his lips to it anyway. He can’t see Clint’s expression but he feels the shift and then there’s fingers brushing through his hair gently, just for a second before Clint moves.

 _Hang on_ , he thinks, doesn’t want Clint to go anywhere.

Luckily Clint doesn’t go far. He just rolls over so he’s laying next to Bucky, stays there for a second as Bucky tries to comprehend what just occurred. Then Clint’s leaning back over to kiss him, licking the taste of himself out of Bucky’s mouth like he’s kind of into it.

It also feels like a _thank you_ , although Bucky can’t figure out what for.

Clint lets him go once Bucky’s thoughts have slipped out of his head, rolls onto his back. Bucky stays where he is. Hell, that sure was something.

“Fuck,” Clint repeats, side-eyes him. “Should’ve done that earlier.”

“Sure,” Bucky answers, licks at his bottom lip absently.

They lay in silence for a few minutes.

“I thought you’d be weirder about this,” Clint says.

Bucky blinks at him. He already feels half-asleep - is he getting old after all? “About what?”

“I…” Clint snorts, shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. You want to go out with me tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Yeah. I really do.”


End file.
